Page 139 of Forking the Billionaire

I shook my head as she returned with an old, dusty tote in hand.

I asked. “What’s in there?”

“Treasures from the past.”

“Now I really am worried it’s a nightgown, or a whole bunch of them.”

She set the box on the coffee table and waved a hand at my suggestion. “These are memories—yours and your brother’s, mine, and a few pieces from your father’s misadventures.”

Okay, she’d piqued my interest.

“Dad had misadventures?” I asked as we returned to our seats.

“Oh yes. He was fearless, just like you.”

“I have fear.”

She opened the box, pulled out a wooden toy truck, and handed it to me. The red paint was worn off along the edges and one of the wheels was crooked.

“Your father's,” Oma said. “He insisted it was magic with the power to fly. He ended up on the roof once, trying to prove it.”

“Oh no.” Delight bubbled up into my words. I’d never heard this kind of story about my dad before, and it was awesome.

“Fortunately all he broke was his arm.”

Next, Oma pulled out a stack of papers. They were drawings, and the one on top was a cityscape done in pen, all straight lines and perfect angles.

“That’s Gabe’s,” I said.

She nodded. Then she flipped to the next paper, which looked like a unicorn barfed up a glitter rainbow.

“Ah, from your artistic phase,” Oma said.

“Artisticis a generous word.”

The difference between Gabe and me had never been more obvious.

“Maybe it’s a cow. You were always drawing animals,” she said as she flipped over the paper. “Oh. This one was supposed to be of you and the boy next door.”

“Jasper.”

She offered me the paper. I took it, looking for any kind of human shapes in the mess of colorful scribbles. There weren’t any, but it was still sweet. He’d always been special to me, even when this was how I showed it.

Oma offered me another piece—a tiny, poorly-knitted hat.

Her eyes misty, she said, “Your dad made this for you.”

I felt the soft threads against my fingers. I didn’t know my dad knew how to knit. Apparently he didn’t do it so well, which made it even more special.

“Can I have this?” I asked.

“You can have anything you’d like.”

“I’d like the drawing, and the truck, too. If that’s all right.”

“More than all right. I want you to have them. I have some of yours and your brother’s baby clothes if you’d like to see those, too.”

“Yes, please.”

---